The Nightmare Man: Part 3
by Jim King
Summary: Hello, Jim King here. This is the third part in my Nightmare Man series. I advise that you read the first two, it helps to understand the basic plotline. Note, this story is short for a purpose. To keep the reader in suspense, to keep the person wanting t


The Nightmare Man: Part 3  
  
Freddy Prepares  
  
  
  
He awoke on the floor. His head throbbed, his temples pounded, and his body felt as if it were made of pounds upon pounds of lead. Fredrick brought a hand to his throbbing skull, and struggled to stand. He leaned against the cool brick wall. "This has got to stop." He said to himself. Outside, the morning sun had since sunk almost entirely behind the tall trees in the distance.  
  
"I can't live like this, not in the same house where I'm known for being a killing machine."  
  
It was true. He lived in his old house on Elm Street, good old Elm Street. After Freddy was destroyed, the new and improved human Fredrick slinked away, frail and thin into the moonlight to the only home he had ever known. Elm Street, with it's tall lumbering house, and it's shining blue door. That had been years ago, when the dreams started, when being a human couldn't have been any worse.  
  
He tumbled forward, landed on his worker's bench, and sat there heaving, cold sweat dripping from his brow. The sound of determination in his voice was undeniable.  
  
"Tonight will be the end of all of this." He laughed, and his voice was more alive, more colorful, more evil. More Freddy.  
  
  
  
2 (Told in Hours)  
  
  
  
7:00 p.m..  
  
His closet door swung open, and a shaking hand grasped onto a red and green striped sweater, a pair of dirty black pants and two workers boots on the floor. As the closet door slammed shut, the same shaking hand grasped onto a brown Fedora. Fredrick left the room.  
  
7:10 p.m.  
  
In the kitchen, Fredrick, only in a tattered T-shirt and pajama bottoms, pulled a long, slender knife from his drawer, the light glinting off the blade gently. Then, sorting through the drawer a second time, Fredrick pulled out three more slender blades, all sharp, all deadly. He pulled a dishwashing towel from the sink, wrapped the weapons into it, and left the room.  
  
7:15 p.m.  
  
The blue, glowing sparks flew into the air. Fredrick held the blowtorch against the steel blade, now held tightly in-between the steel clamps at his work bench. He turned the blowtorch down, pulled up his mask, and loosened the clamp, grabbing the hot steel with a pair of dark, rusty pliers. Fredrick threw another glove atop the table, a left handed glove. From an almost broken drawer from under his bench, he pulled a few steel fashioned knuckle guards, "extras" he would use if his glove met an unfortunate way, and bent or broke. "Good times." Fredrick thought. Then, he clamped one of the small guards in place, lowered his mask, and reheated his blowtorch. He ran the tube of fire across the steel. Slowly, the metal began to grow bright, and the once strong steel began to soften. Fredrick again turned down the torch, but threw it aside in his anticipation. He took one of the four knife blades, pressed it inward, and beat it into the knuckle guard with an old, dull hammer until the blade had found a firm place to sit at least an inch into it. He ran the torch over it a final time. Fredrick did this one, two, and finally three more times, the sweat falling like waves down his back. His second glove was almost complete.  
  
8:30 p.m.  
  
Fredrick lurched into frame, dressed in his usual apparel. Striped shirt, black pants, black boots, brown Fedora. He lifted his right hand, his claw glistening. Fredrick brought up his left next, A new glove covering his hand, the blades still warm from the heat of the blow torch. "One, two, Freddy's…coming…for…..you." He chuckled. Slowly he climbed into bed. Fear and vengeance mingled in his mind. "Tonight will be the last of them." Fredrick yawned sleepily. He was ready for them. No matter what they were packing, he was Freddy Krueger, and no one beat Freddy Krueger. He laughed his way into sleep. 


End file.
